Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Wordless Wednesday

For Wordless Wednesday, I was going to show a picture of a sign proclaiming the dangers of cancer causing agents in the components of what the sticker was stuck on. It was stuck on an SUV. I saw quite a lot of those stickers in California, on SUVS, on cars, on the doors to stores. Apparently California knows everything causes cancer, and they have to warn you of it.

But I’m not going to show that picture because last night I had a visitor. A scary visitor. A visitor so scary, this scared-of-nothing-single-mom-of-three-who-never-had-to-call-for-help-before had to call for backup. There are really only two things that send me screaming through the night; tarantulas that are not in boxes and scorpions. Oh, and bees in the car. But that makes everybody scream, so it doesn’t count.


I was coming in from letting the dogs out last night when I saw this ginormous prehistoric looking arachnoid right on the door jamb, headed into the house! I screamed like a girl, ran in and slammed the door. Then for good measure, I locked it.

I walked around freaking out, wondering what to do. I have no Raid inside (does Raid even kill them?!), it’s out on the patio where he is. I’d have to walk past him to get it. Do they jump?! Hell no, I’m not going back out there. I was even rational for about 2 minutes and realized that I am in the house and he is out on the patio. I should be safe, right? Well, no. He’s still alive and still wants in the house and I have no doubt he will rush me the minute I open the door again.

So I did what any scaredycat girl would do who lives alone with two useless dogs. I called my BFF to ask if I could borrow her husband. I had hoped to have a minute to work out my panic with her on the phone, but the husband answered. It was all I could do not to go “EEEEEEEEEE” right into his ear at 10:00 at night. I’m embarrassed to say I had worked myself into a bit of a frenzy. He was ever so nice and walked me through it, finally asking me if I wanted him to come down and take care of it. Yes, please.

While I’m waiting for him to come down the street (for the love of Pete, is he crawling down here?) my BFF is on the phone with me, as I’m looking at the scorpion - from inside the house. She asks me how big, because when she says they’re big, her husband always says they were little ones. I tell her he’s big. The biggest one I’ve seen since moving to this gawdforsaken place that has scorpions and tarantulas that live in the yard.

Here, let me remind you how big:


The nice husband finally sauntered down to take a look. The first thing he notices is the locked door. “Really? You locked the door? You know they can pick the lock, right? With that little thing on their tail?” He is so going to h.e.double l. for that.

Of course, he says it’s not that big. For crying out loud?? How big does it have to be to qualify as big?! I stick my head out the door, take one quick picture before cootie crawling back into the house. From out on the patio I hear him ask, “Do you want it dead or do you just want it gone?” He’s kidding, right?  That would be a DEAD, PLEASE! I hear some stomping and wielding of a small garden rake.

Me: Is he dead yet?

Him: We’re working on it.

OMG, working on it?

Finally, the thing was dead. I made him show me the dead body before throwing it over the fence. There is no way I would have slept if I had even the smallest notion that it might have survived its injuries. Just telling this story has given me the hibbie jibbies all over again. *shudder*

I just want it noted for the record, that when I was a scared-of-nothing-single-mom-of-three-who-never-had-to-call-for-help, I lived in a place that had neither tarantulas nor scorpions!

P.S. To All Things BD, I think he beat yours.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Only the pure of heart can make a good soup.- Ludwig Van Beethoven

Well, I don’t know exactly what Ludwig means by “pure of heart”, but I’m going to go with it. And I make a pretty good soup, so it must be true. Actually, I make several good soups, one of which is my cure-anything chicken noodle soup.

It’s been requested many times by many people. When the Marine was courting his Sunshine, she became ill with the flu. He called me from school and asked if I would make it so he could take it over to her and be the hero. Apparently, it must work as a love potion, too.

Friends and neighbors have told me my chicken noodle soup has worked when nothing else ever has. It was all I could do to remain modest, aww shucks. However, I offer it up even to this day and its never turned down.

After all that talk, you probably think we’re going to make chicken noodle soup today. Well, you would be wrong. Today, we are going to make Rustic Tortellini Soup. What a yummy soup to start off the cooler weather. And by cooler weather, I mean those two or three days last week when Mother Nature tricked us into believing summer was really over. Oh, she’s a hoot, that Mother Nature.

For this soup, these are the ingredients you’ll need:


3 links of Italian turkey sausage
1 chopped onion
6 garlic cloves, minced
1 (or 2, like me) can diced tomatoes
2 cans chicken broth (they’re hiding behind the spinach)
9oz pkg three cheese tortellini
6 oz bag fresh spinach, chopped
3/4 tsp fresh or 2 tsp dried basil
1/4 tsp pepper
dash hot pepper flakes



IMG_1878  I always chop my own garlic, because I love the smell of fresh garlic, but using it out of the jar is perfectly acceptable, too. Here’s a little kitchen fyi for you, when your hands smell like onion or garlic, if you sprinkle them with salt before washing them, the smell will come off. Personally, I love when my hands smell like garlic, it means I’m cookin something good!





Then chop your onion and add it to the pot. Take the casings off the sausage links before adding it to the pot, making it easier to crumble. Cook all of that over a medium heat until the sausage is fully cooked and the onions are tender. MMmm, it smells good in here now!

If you prefer regular Italian sausage, by all means, go for it. It’s really good that way, too. This recipe is lower in fat and calories by using the turkey sausage. And my friend, Jenny, she likes lower fat and calories.



Once your turkey is browned, add the 2 cans chicken broth, and 1 3/4 cups of water and the can (or two) of diced tomatoes. Bring to a boil.



Add the package of tortellini and return to a boil. Reduce the heat and let it simmer for 5-8 minutes. That gives you time to chop the spinach.




You don’t have to chop the spinach real small, just coarsely chop. Add that, along with the basil, pepper and pepper flakes to the pot. I have used fresh basil and dried basil. I like it either way. The red pepper flakes give it just a hint of a zip.

Cook for another 2 to 3 minutes for the spinach to wilt and then you’re ready for dinner!





Sprinkle with a little freshly grated parmesan cheese, serve with garlic bread and a nice garden salad and Ta-da!  Dinner in less than 30 minutes. This soup heats up well the next day, too.

The next time I’m called upon to make chicken noodle soup, I’ll document it. Maybe. If I show all of you how to make my cure-everything chicken noodle soup, you won’t need me anymore. And I’m not that pure of heart.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Friday, September 25, 2009

All good things must end…

CGMan is leaving today to go back to work. And by work, I mean going to meetings, lunches and playing golf. He makes a pretty good wage, the unfortunate part is he does all of that in Abu Dhabi.

We had a great time during the six weeks he’s been home. Well, except for that whole removing the prostate thing. Otherwise, it was a fun visit for him. He leaves me with these little conversational nuggets:

“Do you have any earphones? The ones that came with my iPod are too big. I have small earholes. That’s why I can’t hear you sometimes.”

Sitting on the patio, watching the Skater spread mulch, “You know, some people pay good money to have this done” 
Spreading the 27th bag of mulch, the Skater mumbles, “Those people obviously don’t have kids”

“Why does mud on your shoe come off easier than dog sh*t?”

Calling a pedestrian a dumbass after he almost ran him over while making a right hand turn onto a left hand one way street.

And my personal favorite: “Have some more wine”


Lucky for me, with the advent of Skype, he can continue to amuse me from afar.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Impulsive, impetuous, inebriated, and illustrated….

Maybe we didn’t get to many any wineries, but we sure had fun working our way there. Isn’t there a saying about best laid plans? Well, consider me Plan B. Always. I have a knack for finding other things to do, rather than the thing we are supposed to be doing.

I know CGMan wanted me to see wineries and become all civilized and educated about wine and all, but as soon as I saw the sign for the Petrified Forest and another for a geyser, I was all,  “Oooooh a geyser!! I’ve never seen a geyser before! Can we stop? puhleeze??”  I mean really,  I’ve seen wine before. On second thought, let’s not even discuss how much wine I’ve seen before. So we stopped at the geyser, as well as the petrified forest. We also stopped at a cheese factory to buy some cheese (made by happy California cows!) to go with the wine that I (not the driver!!) was drinking in the car, that was supposedly on the way to the wineries. To drink taste wine.

We also stopped to swing on a swing set, watch an outdoor wedding get started, feed some fainting goats (they really faint!), hike around the top of a mountain (okay, it wasn’t really a mountain as much as a peak) pretend like I had my own cooking show at the Culinary Institute of America and a stop to look at the redwoods, even though we couldn’t drive through a redwood at this particular forest. Let’s not forget Alcatraz and the whales. Who has time to walk through a winery when just a bottle or three will do? We did make a tour through Korbel. It was really cool and had a great history. And they had free samples!

I have to give it to my husband, ever since he broke his shoulder and can’t golf anymore started reading his buddy, Craig the photographer’s blog he’s been all about taking pictures. His mission this trip? The “digital camera self portrait”. You know, he did a really good job! He got both our heads in every picture and the sun was only in our eyes a few times, making me look a little bit like Mr. Magoo.

All in all, it was a great vacation. I have always believed you have a better time when you just go with the flow. Even if the flow is a tidal wave of wine.

 Waiting for Alcatraz Muir Woods Me with a redwood Where's the whales? I'm just a swingin  Top of Mt. Tam Trees that are now rocks!!Waiting to be a geyser.Fainting goats, don't scare 'em!Caught the geyser on the downsideChampagne? Why yes, I believe I do.     IMG_1711 Dawn in the kitchen

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

It’s a nice day, if you’re a duck.

We came home from our California vacation last night. Because it was late, we couldn’t get the dogs from the puppy camp until this morning. And this morning? Bites.

It’s raining.

This is a good thing because Texas needs rain in the worst way. It bites because I know the dogs are going to be a mess when I pick them up. I am not disappointed. Phoebe is muddy from head to toe (which isn’t really all that high, cuz she’s a bulldog, but there is a lot of her) and Zoe is looking at me like, I told her not to play in the rain with the big dogs, but she wouldn’t listen to me. And because it’s been raining pretty much nonstop for the last week or two, the place is flooded everywhere. The walkways and paths have large puddles running across. Puddles that dogs don’t mind walking through, but people do, so the employees put a plank across one of the larger puddles to help the humans negotiate the path.

As we were walking out, the girls very excited, I was walking the plank (hey! lookit me, walkin the plank! arrrrgh) when my flip flop lost traction (as if a flip flop ever had any traction to begin with) just at the very instant the girls sighted the truck. My feet went flying out from under me and I fell right into the puddle.  The deep, muddy puddle, and was dragged about 3 feet before I thought to let go of the damn leashes.

You know what? That bites. Falling down when you’re a grown up actually bites the big one. And it hurts. Let’s just say I am not 20 anymore and leave it at that.

So rather than regale you with stories of our trip through wine country, I am going to start up the heating pad and sit in the recliner. I am pretty sure the Rx for a sore back and a bruised pride is a good book, a glass of wine and a rainy day.

Monday, September 21, 2009

It snot what you think it is…

This trip to San Francisco was CGMan’s anniversary present to me. We have been married 13 wonderful years. It’s been during these 13 years that I have discovered my love of travel. Driving trips were the only traveling I had done, and while I do enjoy a good road trip, being able to go to faraway places, like Greece and San Francisco seemed like impractical dreams, so I put them on my bucket list and figured it would happen…some day.

We’ve finally reached the point in our lives, now that the kids are all on their own, that we can start crossing some things off that bucket list. San Francisco and wine country have always been on my list. And, any self respecting cow lover wants to go see the happy cows, right? Well, they live right here in California!



You can’t tell from the picture, but they are cracking up! As with most species, the male is a constant source of amusement to all the females in the proximity.



When we were planning the trip, CGMan asked if there was anything in particular I would like to do. You know, beside drink wine. I told him I had never been whale watching, could we do that? Even though I had never been, I did know that one usually goes on a boat to see the whales. He mentioned he knew a great spot to go whale watching. That didn’t sound like a boat to me.

For the next couple of weeks, as we were preparing to go, I was giving him hell about the whale watching, because I knew on the boat, we would be guaranteed to see whales, but sitting on a cliff somewhere, we could only hope they would be passing by.  CGMan promised me that if we didn’t see any whales while on the cliff, he would take me on a boat, sometime in the future, to see the whales. I told him I would prefer a Princess boat on the way to Alaska, thankyouverymuch.  I’m mean, if I’m going to watch whales from a boat, might as well throw in a buffet dinner and a lounge act.

We drove to Bodega Bay along the Pacific Coast Highway. Oh, it was so beautiful!! We stopped for an average lunch that we paid above average prices for, (I am constantly amazed at how expensive it is here) but did manage to score an awesome bottle of wine. We didn’t finish the wine at lunch because it wasn’t a lunch worth lingering over, so we corked it up and took it with us to the cliffs. I guess in wine country, this is perfectly acceptable.


We found a nice little sandy spot next to the edge and sat down to wait. I noticed a tarantula sized small hole near our blanket and wondered if it was a crab hole. Because if a big ole crab were to come out of that hole while I was sitting on the edge of a cliff, I was liable to run fall screaming off the cliff side. Why do men think that’s so funny? 

While we were waiting for the whales to come swimming along, we were drinking the fabulous leftover wine and making pleasant conversation. Then, because I’m such a smartass, I checked my watch and asked, “So what time do the whales come by?” when really I was wondering how much the cruise line charge for a room with a balcony. No sooner had the words left my mouth when CGMan saw a huge plume of what I can only assume is whale snot shoot up in the air.

We both squealed as I grabbed the binoculars and lo and behold, it was a whale!! It was magnificent. I can’t even begin to describe it, but it was there and I saw him. He surfaced a few more times, blew some more snot and then dove under and we didn’t see him again. We saw a couple more while we were sitting there and it really was such fun. Actually, it was probably more fun sitting on a cliff, drinking wine on a beautiful day than it would have been on the bumpy seas and having whale snot land right on me.

Tomorrow, we’re off to the wineries. Oh, lordy.

Friday, September 18, 2009

California dreamin…

CGMan was stationed in the San Francisco area about 20 years ago. He’s very familiar with the lay of the land. Actually, he used to be very familiar with the lay of the land. Things change in 20 years!

As we left the airport to drive to our lodging, which is on a Coast Guard base in Novato (Thank you military, for the perks we have) that is just a short drive north of San Francisco, CGMan was so excited to show me the Golden Gate Bridge. 


I was all, “It’s not as big as I thought it would be.” We drove and drove, but I didn’t see it. He let me know that fog is a part of San Francisco. We could actually see the fog bank over the ocean, he says that stays there all the time.

Yesterday started out foggy and cold, but turned into a beautiful, clear balmy day. We were very happy for that as we had planned a trip to The Rock. That’s right, Alcatraz. It was wonderful! The audio tour was fantastic and chock full of history. I especially liked that the narrators were former guards and inmates.


Before we left for the island, we walked around Pier 39. It is a touristy place with lots of shops and places to eat. We had some fabulous sourdough French toast (Don’t worry Jenny, I was told calories on vacation are negative calories, so we’re good, right?) and Bloody Mary’s. Its days like this when its good to be a grown-up. After the big breakfast, we had time to kill so walked to the end of the pier and saw this spectacle:


I could have watched the sea lions all day. They may look like they’re sleeping in this picture, but I assure you, they were not all sleeping. There was plenty of jockeying for position, a little bit of mating and lots of name calling going on. It was loud and raucous. As I watched, I realized they were like dogs that live in the water.

After our trip to The Rock (every time I say this, I can’t help but relive the memory of the Marine when he was 13 or 14 when the movie The Rock first came out on VHS. He wanted to rent it but it was out, so he kept calling to see if it was in yet. Worried that the rental dude would recognize him, he kept changing his voice, every time he called. “Excuse me, do you have The Rock?” it was quite hilarious as his voice hadn’t changed yet, so he was just a kid putting on a Scottish accent.) Anyway, after our trip to The Rock, we rode the double decker bus around the city, and I finally got to see the Golden Gate Bridge, up close and personal:


It really is a beautiful city. While I enjoyed looking at how people live here, I am a suburbanite and just can’t imagine having to drive around several blocks from my home just to find a place to park. Besides, I have bubble issues; I don’t like anyone in mine.  Another problem I have is heights and I gotta tell you, driving those streets that have more of an incline than my favorite roller coaster gave me a major case of the hibbie jibbies. I’m not sure I would be able to navigate the streets with my eyes squeezed shut.

My favorite part yesterday? The sea lions (I’m a sucker for animals) and eating Chinese food on a balcony in China Town.


Today, we are on a road trip. Surprised? I didn’t think so. We are driving through Muir Woods so I can see the redwoods and then along Pacific Coast Hwy to Bodega. Hopefully, there will be some whales to see as we picnic on a cliff.

We’ve stopped in a little town, Mill Valley, to make use of some free internet (I was having some painful withdrawals). Looking around the coffee shop, I’m seeing a lot of business being done by men in short and sandals. That must be what they mean about California Dreamin…

P.S. I did not ride a cable car, but sang to CGMan as we were driving down the crookedest street in the world.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

On my way to the Bay…


"It's simply a very romantic place. Just one look at any of those streets, and you couldn't be anywhere else -- it's so beautiful, and there's that location, and the sense of the free spirit~. Who couldn't become ravenous in such a place?"~Julia Child, Chef



OOoh! If I ride a cable car, I won’t be able to help myself, I’ll start singing “Rice-A-Roni! The San Francisco treat!”  I’m sure they’re totally used to that by now.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

That man is richest whose pleasures are cheapest…

I must be the richest gal around, because my pleasures are chee—eep! It has never taken much to amuse me or to make me happy.

You’ve met these two, right?           IMG_1629 (2)a


When the kids were little, we lived with Wow (that’s a nom de guerre for my mom who wishes to remain anonymous) for several months while I was getting back on my feet. The time spent at her house was filled with hundreds of pleasures and all of them dirt cheap. It brings to mind  monotonous monopoly games, hours of charades and twenty questions, pranks and other tomfoolery. I wouldn’t trade that time for all the money in the world. I guess that makes me rich, doesn’t it?

When we lived at Wow’s, the Skater was a long way from being a skater. He was barely a walker at that time. On her back porch where we used to sit and watch fireflies (another totally free pleasure!!) was a hole in the cement. I don’t know how the hole got there, but it was there and the Skater, who was 3 or 4, was fascinated with it. He was convinced that a frog lived in that hole. Wow was pretty sure a frog wouldn’t want to live in a cement hole in the middle of a patio. But every night, l’il Skater would go out and talk to his “imaginary” frog in the hole. One night we went out early enough and damned if we didn’t see a frog scamper back into that very hole!

Of course he had to give it a name, Fred, and it became part of the family. While shopping one day, l’il Skater saw a frog house. He insisted to his grandwow that his frog needed a house, that Fred shouldn’t have to live in a cement hole in the middle of the patio. The frog house was purchased and placed with care in the flower box near the section of patio that had the hole, with the hopes that Fred would move over to his new digs. That didn’t happen. Another frog moved into the house and Fred continued to live in the cement hole in the middle of the patio.

All of this brought such pleasure and joy to me. It had been such a long year and I still had so far to go. To come home from work and hear the antics of Fred and his neighbor, while watching the other two kids catch fireflies….well, I was getting richer by the day.

Fast forward 16 years. Skater is a real skater (with the scars to prove it), the Girl is all grown up, and the Marine is married to his Sunshine and the only “grand” I have is a cat. Wow lost her husband a year ago and is selling the house and moving to Kentucky.

I drove up there to help her pack and make the move. While boxing up stuff from the patio, I came across Fred’s frog house. I hadn’t seen it in years. She told me he never really liked it, that he much preferred the hole in the cement. I asked her what she was going to do with it, since she was moving to an apartment. She looked at me rather knowingly, like moms do, and asked if I wanted it for my new backyard. Well, of course I did! Now I have a frog house, all I need is a frog.

Because I’m a google geek, I had to google frog houses to figure out where to put it and how to make it attractive so a frog would want to live there. I learned you should set it over an existing frog hole. Okay, here’s the deal. I live in Texas. Frog holes look just like tarantula holes. Checking the holes for frogs? Not gonna happen. So I just set it out in the middle of the mulch, mostly because it was cute and had such very happy memories attached to it.

Today, Skater was spreading mulch for me and look what he found!


He ran in to get me, knowing I would find joy in a little frog in a silly little frog house. I laughed and squealed, took his picture and then ran in the house to call my Wow. After sharing the news with her that I finally had a resident in the frog house and laughing over the memories of Fred and l’il Skater, I gave my big Skater a hug and thanked him for making my day. He laughed and said he was excited, too. He said he knew I would like it that Fred had finally moved into his house.

I’m pretty sure he’s going to be a rich man, too.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Make it Yummy Monday

I love to cook. When my recipe magazine comes in the mail, I stop everything (I say that as if I were busy doing anything) to look through it to see what recipes to make next. I have been known to spend hours googling what to do with a pound of ground beef.

I’m not the kind of cook you see on Iron Chef. I can’t make things up with a pile of veggies and a fish with its head still on. But I can follow a recipe like nobody’s business. Once I’ve tried a recipe and found it to be a keeper, I will tweak it to make it my own.

Recently I had a girlfriend ask for one of my recipes. She needed something she could make ahead and  be along the lines of “comfort food”. I suggested my chicken pot pie. At the mention of chicken pot pie, CGMan suddenly joined the conversation and suggested we might have that for dinner. With that, we girls decided to have a hands-on pot pie making lesson.

We ran to the store, gathered the ingredients and set about making pot pies. As we were working, she said she was to stop by a mutual friend on her way home and how he loves chicken pot pie. Well, I’m a sucker for a hungry man, so I sent my pot pie with her to give to him and the other fellas he had over, much to the chagrin of CGMan who had been salivating over the thought of some homemade comfort food. I told him not to worry, my BFF Jenny would whip us up something good, like lasagna.

My friend had such a good time learning to make my chicken pot pie, she suggested I put it on my blog. I said to myself, “Self, you don’t have anything else to blog about, especially since the Buckeyes lost last night, so we definitely don’t want to blog about them. So let’s show our readers how to make chicken pot pie.”

Here we go with the first episode of Make It Yummy, Monday:



First you have to pick an apron. You would think this would be a no-brainer, but it depends what mood I’m in and also which season. I have Christmas, Autumn, cows and the like.

Okay, we have an apron, lets see what ingredients we will need.



IMG_1640 I like using a whole chicken because we like all the kinds of meat. I used to boil a whole one, but have found getting a rotisserie chicken is such a time saver and really has a better flavor.

As you can see, this is a semi-homemade version. Let me tell you something, Sandra Lee doesn’t have anything over a single mom feeding three kids. I could turn a box of hamburger helper into haute cuisine and make it last for three meals! I digress.



It’s important to have all your ingredients at the ready.

Having a helper or two is never a bad thing: 






The first thing is to pull all the chicken meat off the bones. Sometimes its best not to let the helpers help with this part.






Make sure you get every bit of that chicken-y goodness!

After you get all the meat off, cut it into small, bite sized pieces. Put that in a large bowl.

IMG_1653Next,  we’re going to cube the potato. If you are not a big potato fan, you can certainly omit this step. The best thing about this recipe is that it can be modified to fit any taste buds. I happen to like potato in my pot pie, and the bag of frozen vegetables doesn’t have potato, so I cube up a small potato, soak it in hot, hot water while I finish adding everything else. It gives a bit of a head start on cooking the potatoes.





Rinse the vegetables under cold running water to thaw them out. Drain and put in bowl with the cut up chicken.

Next we’ll add about a half can of cream of chicken soup (or cream of mushroom soup, or cream of celery soup- the choice is up to you) and about a half jar of roasted chicken gravy. You can always add more later, if it seems too dry. If you put too much in, it will make your pot pie soupy and that’s no good.



Have you ever followed one of your mom’s recipes and wondered why something was in there, but you put it in anyway, because that’s how mom did it? Me, too. I put about 2-3 tablespoons of melted butter in with the chicken & veggies. I don’t know the reason, but if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Don’t forget to drain the potatoes and throw them in there, too.





Now it’s time to add the spices. Garlic, of course. Since I didn’t use cream of celery soup, this time I’ll add some celery flakes. A little salt and pepper, maybe some dill weed. This section is totally about what you like. I put different spices in it every time I make it. So knock yourself out.



Then you stir it all up.

Sometimes I pretend like I have my own cooking show and start singing, because my cooking show will be like a variety show and I sing and tell jokes while I cook:

 Steer it up, little dar-lin, steer it up… come on and steer it up, little dar-ling!

You can always get your helpers to sing back up, right girls?  IMG_1648A

Now comes the fun part, making it look like a pie!



Spray your deep dish pie plate with cooking spray, then unroll one of the pie crusts into it. Add your filling. I kind of mound it toward to the middle to leave room to pinch together the top and bottom crusts.





IMG_1667IMG_1670   IMG_1669

Take the top crust and fold it over the edge of the bottom crust and pinch together. After you’ve gone all the way around, you can pinch the edges to flute it.

IMG_1673  IMG_1674

After you have your pie assembled, poke 4 steam holes in the center, and brush with melted butter. This will give it a nice brown, crispy top.

Bake at 350° for 1 hour or until the crust is a nice crispy brown. Let stand for 15 minutes before slicing.


Serve with a crisp garden salad and waaa-laaa! You have dinner! Isn’t that right, girls?


Wordless Wednesday…with some words…

I like wordless Wednesdays. It gives me a chance to show off some pictures that I have cramming up my phone. Let’s see, since you’ve alread...